the other Son

Chapter 41

Becks was awaiting him in front of his apartment and looked pissed.

Tristan sighed quietly and continued on his way down the alley and to the unavoidable confrontation.

He'd known Becks would see the video eventually – it had been the plan all along, hadn't it? – and of course she'd blame him despite not having any proof for his involvement. Unfortunately, she had a habit of blaming him for everything bad happening in her life.

"Tristan." Her saying his name sounded like an insult.

He glanced at her while fishing the keys from his pocket, voice bored as he replied, "Becks."

She stepped in front of the door in order to block his way.

"What the fuck, Tristan?" she seethed angrily and appeared to barely hold back from punching him. She was pale – paler than her usual doll-like complexion – and her eyes were reddened either by sleep-depravation or an excess amount of crying. Maybe he would've felt a smidgen of sympathy if she hadn't been in his way when he clearly had more important things to do than console her dramatic ass.

Instead of moving out of his way she balled her fists and repeated with even more heat, "What the fuck, Tristan?"

"Don't waste my damn time, Becks – what do you want?"

"Why did you do this?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

When she thrust her phone into his face he could smell the scent of the sea on her skin, salty and fresh and speaking of unimaginable depths.

The scene on the screen was familiar – Ralph's groping hands on Summer's flimsily dressed body, testament to his loyalty. What did Becks expect from a fucking mutt anyway?

Tristan pushed her hand back. "Isn't that your boyfriend?"

"You know it's Ralph," Becks huffed and averted her eyes, tears glistening where anger simmered. "Why-"

She didn't finish the sentence, just looked lost and hurt like an abandoned kitten in the dwindling light. One hand unconsciously covered her lower belly where the bastard's child was growing.

"I'm pregnant," she admitted unnecessarily.

Tristan nodded. Her belly might be flat at the moment but it would swell in no time. There was a short reprieve where she would be able to hide it with big sweaters and thick jackets though it would buy her merely a few weeks at most.

"I hope whatever you offered her was worth it," Becks commented dryly, gesturing at her phone and Summer.

"You believe this was the first time?" Tristan huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "He runs the family's brothel, Becks, he's no fucking saint."

"He said it's just work." She realized how hollow and false it sounded even from her own mouth and looked down at the cobblestones between their feet.

It was a mystery how she could've trusted Ralph so blindly, so deeply, from the get-go but Tristan had realized early on that was how Becks approached anyone she met – with an enviable ability to trust unconditionally. Wasn't he the best example? Of all people she probably should trust him the least and still she fucking did, and she'd get over the heartbreak and treat him no differently than before, their friendship – acquaintanceship – coming out unscathed despite her standing here today, blaming him for the video and the pain and Ralph's disloyalty.

Tristan rolled his eyes – again, he shouldn't get involved, she was collateral damage, a necessary sacrifice. On top of that, she was annoying as hell and made his life more difficult by simply existing which shouldn't be fucking possible. Mermaid witchcraft or some shit like that.